


you can catch it (but sometimes you're born with it)

by jordanhennessy



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Study, Child Abuse, Gen, adam's mom who doesnt have a name??? aparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordanhennessy/pseuds/jordanhennessy
Summary: :)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	you can catch it (but sometimes you're born with it)

Robert Parrish had always been a heavy drinker, but had only thrown himself into alcoholism full heartedly after fucking up his back. His doctor had told him that he needed to rest, but resting wasn’t possible when you had to buy groceries, and pay electric bills, and the doctor himself, for a fifteen minute visit that cost a hundred dollars. He couldn’t afford to not work, so he eased his pain with Southern Comfort, and then he eased the pain of his raging hangovers with Southern Comfort, and he eased his pain that couldn’t be soothed with alcohol by beating the shit out of his seven year old son, who woke up too damn early on a Sunday morning, and who spilled juice on him, and who knocked over and broke vases. He told Adam that he was teaching him not to be clumsy, to not throw away all the hard fucking work he put into their family, and to be "a real goddamn son, not some pansy-ass crybaby". When he was done teaching Adam all these lessons, he continued to beat the shit out of him, because it had become a habit, and habits are twice as hard to break as they are to make, and Robert Parrish figured that he already had enough hard things in his life.

Adam Parrish loved his dad when he was eight. He loved his dad when he was nine, and ten, and eleven too. He loved his dad because his dad brought him a little brown puppy one day after school, and because his dad let him stay up later than his mom did, and because his dad taught him to drive, and let him watch scary movies, and because his dad made good eggs and smiled at him when he brought home a good report card. 

Adam Parrish loved his dad because he only hurt him because he wanted better for him, and because his dad only hit him when Adam had done something stupid and deserved it, really, and Adam loved his dad because he didn’t mean to slam his head into the counter that hard and could he please stop crying about it and toughen up because the world is going to push you around and this is nothing and I only want for you to be able to handle it better?

Adam’s mom always heated up chicken noodle soup for him when he was sick. Adam’s mom always helped him ice his black eyes after his dad went to work. When he was very small, Adam’s mom would sometimes splurge and buy them a two-pack of Reese’s at the grocery store, and they would smile over their secret in the car, because Adam’s mom let him sit in the front seat, which was  _ so cool _ cause no other kid in his class got to sit in the front seat. Adam’s mom sometimes sported matching bruises to Adam, and she would smile ruefully and say, “couple of klutzes, us two”, and Adam would smile back, because he liked having secrets with his mom. Adam’s mom always had cold hands. Adam’s mom always sighed as she had to put a band-aid on another one of Adam’s injuries and asked him to please be a little more careful to not make his father angry because he works so hard to support us Adam, and he really does have your best interests at heart. Adam’s mom had a low, husky voice and she knew all the words to old country songs. 

Adam started to hate his dad when he was twelve, which was when his dad’s beatings went from a monthly occurrence to a weekly one. Adam hated his dad because his skinny body was covered in bruises, and because every time Adam looked at him with “that fuckin’ sad bitch look on your face”, his dad decided to add another one. Adam hated his father for blaming him for the flinch response he had built into him, but he didn’t hate his mom, who had the same response, until he was thirteen.

He started to hate her the day his father woke up furious and stayed that way, and he made the mistake of putting too much of their watered down soap on the sponge while he was washing the dishes, and his dad said, “God- _fucking_ -damnit, Adam, that shit costs money. Did you teach him this shit—” and he jabbed a finger at Adam’s mother, who flinched, “—’cause I know I sure as hell didn’t.  _ God _ , you two are always walking around like I’m the fucking devil, like I don’t work so  _ fuckin’ _ hard to keep this roof over your heads.” And in the moment before Adam’s head was slammed into the side of their fridge, he noticed the split-second look of relief in his mother’s eyes when his dad moved towards him instead of her.

Adam started to hate his parents because they decided to have a kid they clearly didn’t want. Adam started to hate his parents because he was so, so hungry, and he was wolfing down his free school lunch in a way that made his teacher’s brow furrow a little, and Adam was finally old enough to notice that and feel his stomach turn with shame. Adam hated them because he just wanted to get to have milk with his cereal some days, and his parents couldn’t make that happen, but  _ apparently  _ they could afford another 12-pack and another bottle of Old Crow.

Adam hated his parents when he was fourteen too, but he didn’t perfect that hatred until he was fifteen, which was when he started to realize that he had ways out. That his grades were good, better than any of the other kids in his class, and that the guidance counselors had gone from humoring him to being serious when he asked about his scholarship options. He didn’t expect any support from home when he brought up, tentatively, that he wanted to go to college, and he didn’t get it. He got screamed at instead, and as he lay in bed, feeling glad that he had managed to escape the interaction without getting hit, he realized how truly  _ fucked _ that was and had to press his face into his pillow just in case the scream struggling to get out of his throat broke free. It didn’t. Adam Parrish had learned how to be very good at being quiet.

The beatings laid off a little, but it was mostly because Adam stopped being at home to be hit. The lawn mowing jobs he’d had on and off for years were substituted for a job bagging groceries, and then, when he was sixteen, a factory job. That was also the year that Robert Parrish realized that Adam had absorbed a fair bit of knowledge from him about fixing cars, and that his hands were much steadier than his old man’s. That summer was one of the best that Adam had, and he sometimes forgot to hate his dad as he smiled at him and said, “we might just make a mechanic of you yet”, and prompted Adam to take a sip of his Miller Lite and laughed when he made a face, but not in a mean way, in a way Adam saw other dads laugh at their kids. His dad helped him fill out his application for Boyd’s, and Adam sat next to him at their kitchen table and thought  _ this is how it’s supposed to be, how can I keep it like this _ ?

He forgot to hate his mom when he was coming back from his grocery job late at night, and she was sitting on the steps smoking a Virgina Slim and said, 

“Oh, I know that look. Rough shift?” Adam sat next to her and told her about how a customer had yelled at him because her coupon was expired, and she laughed and handed him her cigarette for him to take a drag off of, and told him about how two of her coworkers were sneaking around having an affair, but everyone knew about it. Adam had put his head on her shoulder and she smelled like her lotion, and baby powder, which is what she put in her hair when she hadn’t had time to shower for a few days, and she whispered, in the low, husky voice he loved so much, 

“Half of me is hopin’ that you don’t get into that school, ‘cause I know if you do you’re gonna leave me ‘n’ this whole town behind, and I don’t want you to.” And then Adam remembered to hate her again, even as he allowed her to pull him in with one arm and leave a sticky lipstick mark on his forehead.

When Adam got into Agionbly Academy, him forgetting to hate his parents was no longer an option, because they made sure to remind him every day. His father was angry that he was putting on airs, acting like he was better than all of them. His mother was angry that he had gotten into that school, and that it meant he was going to get out and leave her and Hennrietta behind, with an angry Robert Parrish to boot. 

Adam hated his mom because she would quietly make dinner while Adam tried to be hurt enough that his father would stop, but not so hurt that it would make him angry and make him keep going, and because she would give him a reproachful look when his dad stormed off with his plate rather than sitting down with them to eat. He hated his father because he had to choose between showing up to school with a swollen lip or missing a day of classes he was working himself to the bone to afford. He hated him because he had to keep his shoulders so tight to avoid flinching when the boys at school clapped friendly hands on his back, and because he hurt all over in a way that teenagers aren’t supposed to hurt, his muscles spasming as he lay in bed at night. 

He had been up late, working on a Toyota engine, when he dropped a bolt— something that wasn’t even a big deal, something that was normal when you had hands cramping up after hours of taking notes and then working in a cold garage. The shop had a magnet tool specifically for when that happened. But Adam felt his head go icy-hot with rage, and was halfway through the motion of punching the car’s front bumper before he realized what he was doing. In the bathroom, splashing cool water on his face, Adam looked into the mirror and saw, Robert Parrish’s mouth, set in a hard line, Robert Parrish’s eyebrows, scrunched in anger, and he thought,  _ fuck you _ , because whatever it was that made his dad the way he was lived inside him too, and he had enough hate for all three of them.


End file.
